


The Secret Menu

by zoldyckstripshow



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Chrollo in a beanie and oversized sweater, Cum-eating kink, Gen, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-03
Updated: 2016-11-03
Packaged: 2018-08-28 02:03:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8426626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zoldyckstripshow/pseuds/zoldyckstripshow
Summary: Hisoka pines for a mysterious customer at work, and goes to extreme lengths to get what he wants.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hey~! this is my gift to the wonderful yougei, as part of the hxhfallexchange :3 they gave me a coffee shop au prompt, so here we are.
> 
> i had no idea how to tag this, but it's got nsfw themes and pretty detailed descriptions, so just a warning. also, it's hisoka. lmao. 
> 
> enjoy!

“His car is pulling up.”

Illumi’s voice was faint and flat – the air of someone already wearied by what was inevitably to come. His shoulders were just the tiniest bit tense, jaw taut, and he was moving mugs and cartons about with unnecessary force.

Hisoka, for his part, noticed, but said nothing, a smile on his lips while he positioned himself in front of the cash register, gaze drifting to the shop window.  

Outside, the car door opened.

“…don’t you think that, by now, you’ve crossed some sort of line?” Illumi asked, mixing some cream into a customer’s coffee. “You know the make, color, and year of his car, and, by extension, have also forced _me_ to memorize this information,”

The man stepped out of his car, roots of his dark hair just barely visible under an oversized beanie. His tattoo wasn’t covered with makeup today.

“It’s good business sense to remember your customers,” Hisoka replied simply.

 “– you hang onto his every word, like he’ll let some secret slip and that will reveal the key to decoding him, this mystery man you’ve built up to grandeur in your mind,”

The man entered, tiny bell on the café door jingling in his wake, and Illumi lowered his voice.

“…and you’ve attempted this no fewer than six times, as of last Tuesday.”

Hisoka wasn’t keeping track, but he didn’t doubt that Illumi was right. No matter how obvious he thought his advances were, he was constantly rebuked, in that the customer didn’t seem to notice his interest – or him – at all.

Perhaps he just needed to be more straight-forward.

“If you were jealous, you could’ve just said so,” Hisoka purred back. Illumi bent a straw between his fingers with annoyance and turned away, black ponytail whipping Hisoka in the face just as his favorite customer approached the counter.

The man didn’t say anything, transfixed on the menu, his grey eyes just as distant as ever. Hisoka started typing in his order preemptively anyway – a tall café latte, with two extra shots of espresso and whipped cream.

It always played out like this. The man would walk in, peruse the menu as if he _weren’t_ a creature of habit, and after spending a minute debating the options, he would order the same drink, prepared exactly the same way.

In anyone else, Hisoka would find this sort of predictability boring, but for some reason, this man’s repetitive behavior was endearing. Hisoka always wondered if today would be the day the man ordered something different. _That_ was what piqued his interest.

At least in the beginning.

The more the man stopped in, the more questions popped up in Hisoka’s mind, and the more curious he became. What did his hair look like when it wasn’t swept back under the beanie? Some days, the cross on his forehead was striking, deep purple and finely detailed – other days, it was concealed under layers of what Hisoka assumed was expensive makeup. How much makeup did the man wear, anyway? Were those his natural eyelashes, or was it mascara? What did his smile look like? Did he blush when he was drunk, or could he hold a poker face? Did he blush when he was aroused?

Would his cheeks turn pink the moment before he was about to come, or after –

“Sorry, I’ll have a café latte, tall, with two shots of espresso,” the man spoke. His voice, rather soft, was barely audible above the background music, but Hisoka heard it clearly, having become finely attuned to his speech after taking his order so many times.

“And whipped cream? Chocolate shavings on top?” Hisoka traced a nail over the screen on the register, watching the man’s expression. There was no change; no raise of the eyebrows, no quirking of the lips. Only his eyes told the story of his surprise.

“Oh, you know my order?” the man asked.

“By heart,” Hisoka winked and rang up the total. “Five fifteen.”

As usual, the man didn’t seem to notice his flirtation, handing over his card without comment. He swiped it and glanced at the name before handing it back. Chrollo Lucifer.

The first time the man had walked into the shop and told Hisoka the order was for Chrollo, Hisoka had spelled it wrong: Kurollo. It was only the second time around, when Hisoka had actually checked the name on his card, that he realized his mistake. He also realized that the man’s name was probably false. What kind of last name was Lucifer, anyway?

Not that Hisoka was one to talk. His first name was strange, as well, and the entirety of Illumi’s name was a Russo-Japanese mouthful that he couldn’t quite wrap his tongue around either – though when they had initially begun working together, he had certainly tried.

Hisoka looked up, but the man was already gone, curled up on one of the coffee shop armchairs, book in hand. He was always reading something. The titles went over Hisoka’s head, none of them even remotely familiar, with words like _Zarathustra_ , _Dionysus_ , and _asceticism_ adorning the covers. Today, it was _The Birth of Tragedy from the Spirit of Music_.

“Not a lot of people read Nietzsche in their free time,” Illumi commented, stirring a cup of black coffee. “I don’t know if I find that impressive or pretentious.”

“Nietzsche?” Hisoka repeated. It sounded familiar, like something he should know, but had never cared to pay attention to.

“Philosophy. I’ve seen him with Foucault, too, whom I must say I prefer. _Discipline and Punish_ is a riveting work.”

Hisoka added the two espresso shots to Chrollo’s drink with a flourish. “It sounds like something _I_ would enjoy.”

“Perhaps. But not as erotic as you’re imagining.”

Hisoka smirked, sprinkling the chocolate shavings over Chrollo’s drink and popping the lid on. A work of art, but still missing the final ingredient. He fished around in his apron for a bright red pen and scribbled a sloppy heart on the side of the cup, with his phone number below it. That was clear enough, wasn’t it?

Illumi watched, disinterested, as Hisoka admired his handiwork. “The heart is tacky.”

“A little fun wouldn’t kill you, Illu.” Hisoka cleared his throat, leaning over the counter languidly. “Chrollo, your drink is ready.”

It took a few seconds for Chrollo to tear his gaze from the novel. He set the book aside and stood, slim frame buried under the burgundy sweater he was wearing. It wasn’t even that cold outside – low 60s, maybe. How cute.

Chrollo reached out to take his drink and Hisoka was hit with a gentle whiff of perfume, luxurious and low and entirely intoxicating. He didn’t manage to get a word out before Chrollo was gone again, back in the chair, book propped open and eyes scanning the pages.

“Looks as though you’ve failed again,” Illumi removed his work apron, hanging it on a hook and smoothing down his shirt. “I’m going on my break. Don’t ruin the café while I’m gone.”

Hisoka threw him a sidelong glance. “I wouldn’t _dream_ of it.”

The door jingled behind Illumi as he departed, and Hisoka was left to his own devices. He threw a rag onto the drink bar and started to wipe it down. The shop was empty, except for Chrollo, so the only noise was the background music. Hisoka would’ve preferred the sounds of Chrollo turning the pages of his book, maybe humming a little with understanding after a particularly inspiring passage, but turning off the music was against the rules and Illumi would be furious. Normally that wouldn’t be a good enough reason for him to abstain, but Hisoka didn’t want to make a scene in front of his favorite customer.

A few minutes into his cleaning, Hisoka looked over to see Chrollo sipping his drink, the perfect picture of domesticity – except for a smear of whipped cream on the corner of his mouth. Hisoka slowed his cleaning until he had stopped entirely, mid-scrub, rag in hand. He couldn’t help but stare; the sugary white cream on Chrollo’s face should’ve been innocuous, but it made his blood boil, the familiar heat of arousal settling in his stomach. He licked his lips eagerly. An opportunity.

Chrollo was still wrapped up in his book, but he would be leaving soon. He never stayed for more than a half an hour. Hisoka had but minutes to act.

The gears in his head started to turn and he began preparing another of Chrollo’s drinks, muscle memory guiding him while he let his imagination run wild. Chrollo, sitting on the edge of a bed, in a room full of bookshelves with novels strewn about the floor, perusing a book, reading a passage aloud before looking up at him through his thick eyelashes –

Drink in hand, Hisoka ducked around the corner, out of possible view, and slowly unzipped the front of his work pants. His cock was already throbbing needily. He leaned against the wall and palmed himself, picturing Chrollo’s delicate hands stroking him, dexterous and feather-light.

He bit his lip, continuing the fantasy. Chrollo, getting off the bed and kneeling down in front of him, pressing his tongue against the tip of Hisoka’s cock, lapping at it like he was begging for a drink, pillowy lips wrapping around him and drowning him in hot, wet, pleasure, the sensation of bumping against the back of Chrollo’s throat and the way he must sound when he moaned around a dick, the dribble of cum down his chin after Hisoka finished, the way he would diligently suck every last drop from him –

Hisoka’s mouth fell open when he came, the low noise in the back of his throat drowned out by the hum of the shop’s music. Only a few drops hit the floor, with the rest of it landing in the freshly made drink, leaving a thick pattern on the surface of the coffee.

He stayed there for a few seconds, gathering himself, before he fixed his pants and found a stirring stick to blend the drink. After adding the final touches – whipped cream and chocolate shavings – he slipped the cup into its sleeve and fastened the lid. He was about to call Chrollo over to present his gift, but a hand covered his mouth roughly, muffling his voice. Someone must be back from their break. 

Sure enough, Illumi whispered into his ear, obviously suspicious. “Did he order that?”

Hisoka shook his head out of Illumi’s grasp, turning to face him. “No. I thought I would treat our regular customer to another one of his favorite drinks.”

Illumi’s eyes narrowed, and he pointed to the drink accusatorily. “What’s wrong with it?”

Hisoka feigned hurt. “What do you mean?”

“You know he will be back next week, at the same time, and order the same drink – only one. You also know that any extra drinks you make come out of your paycheck.”

“You’re right, I do know those things,” Hisoka teased, moving towards the counter, ready to announce his present once more. Illumi grabbed his hand and yanked him back with a power Hisoka hadn’t expected to come from the incredibly thin man, and though he had just satisfied himself, he felt the stirrings of arousal once more.

“You didn’t write your phone number on this one.” Illumi said, finality in his tone. “So you’ve done something else to it, I’m sure.”

Hisoka couldn’t reply without giving himself away, so he just shrugged.

“Make him another one and throw this one away. I want to watch you make it.” Illumi ordered.

Hisoka’s eyes lit up and he couldn’t help but leer. “Voyeurism? Illu, I didn’t know you had such… exotic tastes.”

Illumi’s expression changed from confusion to one of grave understanding, and then almost comically exaggerated revulsion. Hisoka made sure to commit it to memory for a rainy day. There was a brief pause as they stared each other down, Illumi livid and Hisoka brazen, before they snapped into motion at exactly the same time. Hisoka lunged at the counter, ready to jump over it entirely and hand the drink to Chrollo, but Illumi was faster, putting him in a chokehold with one arm and grabbing at the drink with the other.

“I will _not_ – have you giving – customers – spiked drinks – you _disgusting_ animal –” Illumi hissed, trying to wrest the drink from Hisoka’s grip.

“I’m positive I don’t know what you mean,” Hisoka choked out, trying not to laugh.

They scuffled silently, and though there must’ve been quite the visual commotion, Chrollo didn’t look up from his book. Illumi finally dug his knee into Hisoka’s back and bent him backwards, snatching the coffee cup. Hisoka gave one last futile twist of his body, using Illumi’s weight against him and sending them both tumbling to the floor.

Illumi winced as the hot drink splattered all over his front. As it began soaking into the fabric, small clumps of pale fluid gathered on the surface of his shirt, having not yet dissolved entirely.

They were both still, just staring at the mess on Illumi’s clothes, before he fixed Hisoka with a deadly glare.

Were he a religious man, Hisoka would’ve found himself praying, because his future had darkened considerably and there would be absolutely no way to avoid the oncoming rapture – though he had to admit, Illumi’s wrath was pleasing to think about.

“Is everything okay?”

Hisoka looked up to the counter to see Chrollo hovering there, sans whipped cream. Hisoka hurried to his feet and ran a hand through his hair, ignoring Illumi seething on the ground. “Yes, it’s fine, we just had a bit of an accident, nothing too serious.”

“Oh, I see.” The corners of Chrollo’s lips turned up in what was the first smile Hisoka had ever seen on his face. “It’s a shame. Such a waste of a good drink.”

“I’d be _more_ than happy to make you another,” Hisoka grinned, sidestepping the kick that Illumi aimed at his Achilles heel.

“A tempting offer, but I must be going.”

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather be comi –”

“ _Hisoka_.” Illumi’s voice was thunderous. “One more word and they’ll have to wheelbarrow what’s left of your body out of this establishment.”

Chrollo raised an eyebrow at this but said nothing, instead offering them both a nod before heading to his car.

Hisoka watched him leave wistfully. Behind him, Illumi’s anger bubbled over, and he felt a brief pain in the backs of his knees before he was flat on the ground.

The rest of the day passed in a blur, but that night, he replayed the memory of Chrollo’s sensuous walk and gave himself another shuddering orgasm onto the only book he owned.  

///

Mon, 10/16

 _[11:54]_ _I was thinking about stopping by today._

 _[11:55] This must be Chrollo. Your usual?_ _♦_

_[12:01] You made it wrong, last time._

_[12:02] Oh? I can make it up to you anytime, anywhere. Preferably your apartment~_ _♥_

_[12:09] Unnecessary. I can just show you how to make it correctly._

_[12:09] …?_ _♠_

_[12:14] It’s my turn to be the barista._

_[12:14] I hope you have a sweet tooth._

_[12:15]_ _♥♥♥_


End file.
